“Fierce kitten.” Orin exhaled, long and sad. “I likely would have been at his side for this if not for you. I wasn’t lying. I was focused on you. But you might need time to trust me again, if you choose to trust me.”
“Lump.” Not Tiiran’s strongest insult, but he was bone-weary and sore. “We commit treason for each other, then.”
“It’s only treason if the ruler was legitimate,” Nikoly murmured against Tiiran’s palm.
“You sound like Tiiran.” Orin also seemed weary. He had looked weary too, now that Tiiran thought about it. Both of them did. They loved to lecture him about eating, and rest, and taking care, and yet they were far worse than Tiiran was.
There was probably a new king. That… did not seem like Tiiran’s business, at the moment. There’d been so many. One more was nothing to get in a state about.
“I’ll leave the fretting to other people,” he decided, his hands falling to his sides, Orin the only thing holding him up.
“Tiiran?” Nikoly leaned over him to peer into his eyes.
Tiiran scowled and tried to move away but Orin wouldn’t let him.
“Your skin is dry and your lips are chapped,” Nikoly observed, louder and noticeably concerned.
“Been a while since the last porridge,” Tiiran informed him. “Stole some wine before I found you.”
It was unsettling how often and easily Orin kept picking him up to move him places. But the water fountain was of sparkling white stone, and the water clear and clean, and Orin continued to hold him steady so he could drink.
“There won’t be food until the kitchen staff settles down,” Nikoly continued to worry aloud. “Some might have left to never return, or might not come back for a day or two. I can go into the capital to get food if things have calmed. Or I can scout ahead, and if things haven’t calmed, we can leave the palace together.”
“We’ll take whatever the kitchen has now,” Orin decreed, pulling Tiiran back after only a few sips. “Patience, love.” He was back to kissing Tiiran’s temple and calling himthat, which was a far cry fromkitten—or perhaps it was the same in poetry-speak. “Wet your lips and swallow, then let your stomach calm before you have more.”
“I had wine without issue,” Tiiran complained, curling against Orin with a sigh. “Must you be so cautious with me always?”
“Here.” A rose in bloom was thrust before Tiiran’s face.
Tiiran looked beyond it to Nikoly, unable to even form a question.
Nikoly glanced to Orin, seemingly embarrassed. “In those books about the herbs for dyes, there was other information about plants. You can eat roses, although not the white at the bottom of the petals unless you like bitter tastes.”
Tiiran stared at him, and then the rose, before finally noticing that the garden they were in did not appear even slightly neglected. The stone walls, benches, and fountain were scrubbed and clean. The greenery was trimmed back. And the walls themselves were covered in trellises and countless roses in all shades of red, pink, white, yellow, and pale purple, so many that it might as well have been summer and not spring.
“Oh.” Orin sounded as if he was just noticing as well. “I don’t believe these are ordinary roses.”
They were certainly larger than any Tiiran had ever seen.
“You can eat them?” Tiiran considered the bloom before him. Nikoly had picked one of dark red from directly above the bench.
“A practical use,” Orin remarked, taking the rose from Nikoly and making sure Tiiran held it. “They’re not only pretty. Rather like you.” Flattering schemer. Treasonous bear. Master of Spankings and Roses, with a carefully hidden ferocious heart, the same as the rest of them. Tiiran was so tired. Orin tutted at him. “Eat. We’ll get you something better as soon as we can.”
“I want a bath,” Tiiran decided. “And the library…”
“We’ll check on that too,” Nikoly assured him. “Eat, bee.”
“Doing it again.” Tiiran was no longer complaining. “That’s whyIdid it.” They seemed confused. Tiiran plucked some petals and put them in his mouth so he could find the strength to explain himself.
It was like having a mouth full of perfume, but also like chewing a soft leaf.
He chewed, very, very slowly, then swallowed. Orin permitted him another drink of water.
Tiiran addressed them both with rose-water on his tongue. “You make me feel loved.” He sighed for their stillness and warm, warm gazes. “It doesn’t matter if you are only fond of me or that you lied. I believed him, but I didn’t care. You made me feel loved. No one has ever done that, not even Lanth. Just the two of you. Ihadto care for you. I don’t have swords or Canamorra friends. I am not canny. I don’t know how to make things pretty on a plate, or how to care for someone who is ill. I have only a muck-spout of a mouth to declare my feelings. So that is what I used.”
His breath smelled of roses now, and perhaps wine.
“So you decided to die for us?” Nikoly’s voice cracked. “Tiiran.”
